


Dwayne, Boston, Bumble and Bee

by quiescentcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Gen, a little bit of feels, this is probably one of the cutest nicest things i will ever write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 08:17:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8482246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiescentcas/pseuds/quiescentcas
Summary: Supernatural Prompt Challenge: November 2016: NaturePrompt: AnimalsTFW gets pets.





	

After re-protecting the bunker against all manner of creepy, crawly, dark and slimy, restoring the wards that had been worn off over time, by Amara, by Crowley, and by the boys themselves, it was a surprise for Dean to walk into his room one day and see a mouse scurry along the wall behind his bed. They had never been a problem before, but apparently the Men of Letters had had the forethought to ward against the little critters that Sam and Dean did not.

Sam’s first instinct was to get a cat, but Dean flat out said no.

That was until, after they’d evaded all the mouse traps he’d set up, Dean tried to start the Impala one day only to find that the mice had made a nest near the battery and had been chewing on the cables.

By the end of the day, he’d returned to the bunker with a new set of cables and a tortoiseshell cat.

It was scrawny, but that seemed like a good thing, and besides, the only other cat available was all black, which was simply too witchy for Dean’s liking.

He and Sam fought over what to name the cat. At first, Dean was against naming him at all, but he knew if he didn’t then Sammy would name it anyway. He decided to pick the first thing he could think of.

“If the cat needs a name, then I’ll call him… Dwayne.”

“Your naming the cat Duane.”

“Yes.”

“You mean like Duane Allman?” Sam teased.

“I was actually thinking Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson, but either’s fine.”

Sam huffed but gave in, and with that, Dean won the battle.

He’d never admit how much he cared about the cat, but Sam had heard the loud purring coming from Dean’s room, and it was hard not to notice the way Dwayne ran up to Dean after they’d come back from a hunt and rub himself against those bowed legs, tail arched.

It made Sam miss Riot, the dog he’d hit with the Impala, so when one of their hunts led them to a family whose dog, a black lab mix, was the only survivor of a monster attack, Sam claimed her the moment she was released from the veterinary hospital. He told Dean it would be temporary, just until they found her a new home, and he brought the dog back to the bunker in a borrowed car.

Temporary became just a little longer, which soon became permanent.     

The lab had come with the name Boston, which Sam had been determined to change.

“You can’t name a dog after a city,” he argued with Dean.

“Then think of it as naming her after a classic rock band.”

“That’s even worse!”

But in the end, the dog answered only to Boston, and Dean won that battle too.

Sam would take the dog out running with him in the morning and would let her sleep on his bed at night. He was worried, at first, that she and the cat wouldn’t get along, but after the initial intense curiosity, they became partners in crime.

Cas was the one who first saw their little ambush trick. He came across Dwayne one day, crouched down behind a corner, and apparently staring at the wall, waiting. If he wondered why, all it took was a peek around the corner to see Boston chasing a frantic mouse down the hall and right into the cat’s waiting paws.  

It was Dean’s idea to get Cas a pet too. It seemed only fair; he was part of the family, and the bunker was already halfway to becoming a zoo.

They went down to the pet shop and, after explaining to Cas that no, there was no way they could find room in the bunker for an apiary, came home with two guinea pigs. Two because the pet shop owner had informed them that these guinea pigs had had to be put into the same litter after birth, and while all the others had been sold, they were the only two of that litter left. They had grown to become pair bonded, and when one was taken away, the other would squeak and cry until the first came back.

The guinea pigs had opposite stripes: one was black with a beige stripe around the middle, and the other was beige with a black stripe around the middle. Dean hoped that the resemblance to bees had at least temporarily satisfied Cas’ desire for beekeeping, but it was something the angel certainly hadn’t forgotten.

“I think I’ll name this one Bumble and this one Bee.”

“What? Cas, no, you can’t name one animal after another!”

“They look like bees don’t they?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Then that’s what they’re called,” Cas said firmly.

That was the one battle that Dean lost.

But despite this, he helped Cas build a detailed, wooden hutch with upper and lower levels. While doing this, they kept the door to Cas’ room in the bunker shut, and let Bumble and Bee loose, away from the cat and the dog. At first, the animals were shy and hid under the bed, but slowly they came out and began to sniff around their new home and the people building it. They ran around it, chasing each other, and when the two guinea pigs eventually became tired, Cas lifted them up onto his bed where they curled up together and fell asleep.

Their new pets made leaving the bunker to hunt more difficult, but the boys worked around it. Boston always had to be with someone, so he usually came with them, but on trips only a couple days out, they left Dwayne and the guinea pigs at the bunker with plenty of food and water.

Longer journeys, however, meant leaving all pets with as close to a next door neighbor as they had: A child whose parents, if they were confused by the three grown men who lived together somewhere off the map, traveled a lot, looked like they’d been drafted into every war since before time began, yet owned the warmest most gentle animals, didn’t ask any questions. Their kid was paid well and hopefully learned some responsibility too.

Despite their scars and their fear, ingrained by the unending loss of anyone and anything they cared about, the boys allowed themselves to love their pets freely. The animals weren’t just a little bit of extra life in their own, pure and trusting, unencumbered by the weight of the world; they were an anchor to this life, to Earth, to the bunker. They were a constant in a world constantly changing and a normalcy in the freakshow that was their lives.

And most importantly, they were a reason for the boys to come home.


End file.
